


slim-to-none

by dia (efharisto)



Series: Rissi’s Marvel Fics [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Description of Injuries, Fluff, Gratuitous Dragon Ball Z Reference, Happy Ending, Iron Dad, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, endgame rewrite, rissi tries to cure her depression: the fic, spider son
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 07:10:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18633301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/efharisto/pseuds/dia
Summary: “The odds of him regaining function of his arm are completely nonexistent.” Steve stopped, rubbing at the spot between his eyebrows; as if to relieve pain there. “They’ll probably end up taking it off. His organs are-”“Fuck,” Peter cut him off. He vomited down the front of his shirt twice.-endgame rewrite to heal your soul- i promise it’s happy. spoilers; read at your own volition.





	slim-to-none

The gauntlet, for lack of a better word, destroyed Tony.   
  
Peter’s mind was on overdrive- trying to assess the damage, surmising the healing time, the occasional lapse in thought in exchange for a  _ fuckfuckfuck _ , wondering just how deep that godawful surge of radiation ran through Tony’s body-   
  
For whatever reason, he could only manage to babble. Tony’s skin increasingly paled. He hadn’t realized that Pepper had moved him out of the way until he heard her soft, “You can rest now.”

  
Nobody seemed to have anything to say. Tony rested.   
  
-   
  
He couldn’t bring himself to follow Tony to the med bay- not when he had looked so, so dead. Steve worried after him.   
  
“How are you holding up, kid?” Steve asked, although he knew the answer. Peter had broken two of his floating ribs and a clavicle, all of which had already begun to rapidly heal.   
  
“Fine.” He was aware of his uncharacteristic brevity, but he didn’t have the energy to concern himself with titles or politeness.   


Steve’s lips rolled between his teeth. Evidently, he was at a loss for words. The soldier took the seat to the left of Peter, cracking his knuckles against his palms before shaking the tension out of his hands. Absently, Peter cracked his own. No other sounds followed, for a time.   
  
Steve eventually spoke. “Tony is-“   
  
“Don’t.” Peter pulled off his jacket, feeling nauseatingly overheated. “I can’t hear this right now.”

The man continued nonetheless. “You need to hear this, Peter. You’re the only one who hasn’t,” Steve insisted. “Theyre- they’re trying a skin graft, but the damage to his muscles is intense, like nothing they’ve ever seen before. They don’t know if the skin can even attach. The amount of radiation basically degraded all of the filament in his arm into pulp. The odds of him regaining function of his arm are completely nonexistent.” He stopped, rubbing at the spot between his eyebrows; as if to relieve pain there. “They’ll probably end up taking it off. His organs are-”

“Fuck,” Peter cut him off. He vomited down the front of his shirt twice.

 

-

 

As soon as Tony regained the barest amount of consciousness, there was a pencil in his remaining hand; working away at the design for a prosthetic.

Peter sat at the side of the bed, feet propped onto the small table next to it. Tony seemed on autopilot. Peter snuck a glance at the discarded sheets of paper below his chair. The drawings were illegible with messy linework and smudged graphite; such a jarring counter to Tony’s standardly crisp, precise sketches.  _ He should be recovering; asleep. _

The man harshly scratched at the gauze covering where his arm once was. He realized his mistake when the pain of running fingernails over an open wound hit him. Peter couldn’t conceptualize how badly it must’ve hurt, but Tony only winced and shifted on the bed before continuing to sketch.

“Tony.”

“Hmm.” It wasn’t prompting or questioning, it was only an obligatory acknowledgement.

_ “Tony.” _

_ “What?” _ The man snapped back.

Peter didn’t relent. “Just- just put the paper down-“

“No.” He scribbled something out, and Peter heard the graphite snap. Tony slammed his hand onto the bedside, blindly feeling for a freshly sharpened pencil. Peter removed his legs from the table to lessen the effort.

“You need to be resting,” he said, though the insistent quality of his voice had died down as Tony’s movements became more erratic.

“I’m fine. I’m not the first person on planet earth to lose a limb. Just look at Steve’s emo friend.”

“Sure, but you’re one of the first to use the  _ fucking Infinity Stones. _ ” No fucking way he was letting this go. “Who  _ knows  _ what that’ll do to your body with time? You can’t just start working again as if-“

“I  _ know _ what’s happening to my body!” Tony roared, then dropped the sketchbook to the ground. “Guess how much morphine I’m on, Peter: The maximum amount I can legally be given, if not more. All it’s doing is making me high. They might as well have given me children’s Tylenol, with how little it’s doing anything to help this  _ fucking pain _ .”

Tony went quiet after that. Peter knew damn well he had more to say, and he also knew that Tony was deliberately holding it back. The man, he realized, did not want to worry Peter more than necessary.  _ Coddling me,  _ the bitter part of his brain supplied. He just as quickly dismissed the thought as irrational, and moved on.

They were silent. Tony tried to retrieve the discarded sketchpad, but the pain proved too taxing as he returned to his previous sitting position. His gaze rested absently on the ceiling. 

Peter stood, gathered the paper, returned it to Tony, and made for the door.

Before he exited, he spoke without looking back. “You’ll burn yourself out.” The finality of the statement implied inevitability.

Peter went to bed. He didn’t sleep.

-

“Daddy talks ‘bout you a lot.”

The hand which was currently handing a Lego brick to Morgan paused halfway. “What?” he asked, lamely.  _ After all these years? _

“Yeah.” She leaned forward, plucking the small piece of plastic out of his hand and clicking it into place. “Told me ‘bout the boat you cut in half.”

“The-?” he started, and stopped himself when he realized what the kid meant. He flushed, only imaging what Tony had to say about the ferry fiasco.  _ Oh, God, _ he thought,  _ did he tell the rest of the team, too? It wasn’t even me who cut it in half!  _ He shook his head of the thought, figuring it to be no time for worrying about such inconsequential things. 

“The boat,” Morgan repeated. Peter watched her clumsily place more bricks together- she was completely ignoring the building instruction booklet. “He said you were brave.”

His heart clenched, and Morgan continued. “H’said about Ned, too, and all th’stuff you do in school. He missed you a lot.”

_ He told her about _ Ned? 

_ Just how much did he miss me? _

-

Bruce was embarrassing, in an endearing sense.

Their first proper interaction involved the most painfully awkward dab Peter had ever witnessed. Unable to formulate a response to what was clearly meant to be cool and relatable, Peter could only dab back.

Talk about a total bro moment.

_ Broment,  _ he amended in his mind.

The discussion, surprisingly, centered around the school project he was currently working on- well, the one he was working on five years ago. The subject was interesting nonetheless, and served as an entertaining yet superficial way to pass the time.

“I’m surprised someone as young as you could tackle such a difficult topic,” the man praised, giving a thumbs up with what Peter could only describe as a green yaoi hand. 

He waved dismissively, “MJ’s was way better.”  _ This is such a stupid fucking thing to be talking about _ .

“You should have her around sometime soon.” He modified a string of the code for Tony’s nanotech arm, observing how the fingers reacted to the change. The man in question was nowhere to be seen.

Peter nodded. “She’d love that.”

—

If you had told Peter a couple of years ago that he would be on amicable terms with Captain America, he would’ve had a stroke. 

He hadn’t foreseen encountering Steve again after Germany,  _ period- _ then again, he also hadn’t foreseen something like the literal  _ end of the fucking world _ to be the cause of their reunion _.  _ From what little he knew about the Accords situation left him with a bad taste in his mouth when it came to Steve. He hadn’t expected the soldier to be such a genuinely pleasant man.

“Wanna watch  _ Dragon Ball Z?” _ Peter asked one day, suddenly. He got the impression that Steve would be a good binge-watching buddy.

“What’s that?” Steve asked, curiosity peaked; clearly by the ridiculous name alone.

“It’s about a stupidly strong guy named Goku that finds out he’s actually one of the last survivors of an alien race that was completely wiped out by a dictator. It’s hard to explain. It’s from the nineties, so it’s a bit cheesy; but I don’t know- it’s a good distraction.”

Steve was already on the couch. “I’m here for a distraction. By my standards, the nineties are relatively modern.”

Peter instructed FRIDAY to begin the show. They spent the next hour watching until Peter fell asleep. When he woke up again two hours later, Steve was still watching, completely invested.

The super soldier paused it when Peter stirred. “I have questions,” Steve said, foregoing any post-sleep greetings. “What is Vegeta’s power level? Also, just why do saiyans get stronger every time they fight?”

Peter smiled and, for the first time in what felt like forever, allowed himself to indulge in something fun.

“Well, Vegeta’s strength is always a step behind Goku’s…”

-

He was shocked to see Tony  _ actually  _ emerge from his room around 2 am. It had been weeks since Peter had seen him outside of the med bay, his bedroom, or his makeshift lab. He still looked exceptionally haggard, although less so. The nanotech arm had been themed a stunning icy silver, black accents tastefully decorating the fingers. He watched as Tony untied the bag of bread on the table and shoved a solid half-slice in his mouth.

Tony made his way to the living room, glancing at the screen before promptly sitting between Steve and Peter. “I see you’re on the Frieza saga. Nice.”

Peter couldn’t help an excited gasp. “You know  _ Dragon Ball?” _

He shrugged. “It was one of my favorite shows in my twenties. I’ve seen it three times through.”

They watched together until Peter physically could not keep his eyes open. He slept with peace.

-

Peter couldn’t deny that he had missed hanging out with Tony.

Once they were seated at a booth at what was formerly their go-to Indian restaurant, it felt like their weekly tradition of getting lunch together had never ceased. 

“What’s the plan for the rest of the day, Underoos?” Tony asked around his butter chicken. “Wanna go video game shopping?”

Peter dropped his spoon.  _ Underoos.  _ A nickname he hadn’t heard once in his months back. The swell of not-so-distant nostalgia in his chest forced a smile.

_ I missed this. I missed you. _

“Huh?” Tony questioned at both the lack of an answer and the seemingly random grin. 

Peter smiled at his own lap. “Dunno. Just realized how long it’s been since we’ve gone video game shopping.”

Tony smiled as well. “I know, Pete.”

_ Thank God I didn’t lose you. _

-

“I never got the chance to thank you, Peter.”

“It’s no problem,” he replied, and then furrowed his brow with confusion. “Uh, by the way- for what, Miss Potts?”

“Just call me Pepper, I don’t go by my maiden name anymore.” She smiled, gently. “I’m thanking you for how you helped Tony through these last few months.”

Rather than returning a smile, he could only stare slack-faced. “I didn’t do anything.”

She shook her head. They were both sat at a table, waiting for Steve’s report on whether his returning of the Infinity Stones to their proper location and timeframe was successful or not. Peter could tell that Pepper was anxious to get the damn things out of the new Avengers facility. “You did; more than you know,” she insisted. “Before this all- well, before everything went to shit- you were one of the only normalities in his life. You’ve been reminding him that he still has things to look forward to in this lifetime. I doubt he’d even be out of the infirmary by this point if it weren’t for you.”

He was, admittedly, completely without a response.  _ Me? _ He could only think.  _ I helped? _

“Honestly,” she continued, “I don’t know  _ what _ he would’ve done if we didn’t get you back, Peter. It was empty without you around.”

Peter implored himself not to cry.

-

“I wouldn’t’ve been able to handle it if the Gauntlet killed you,” Peter said one day.

Tony froze, although only momentarily. He was back to typing before Peter could blink. “Honestly, I’m shocked it didn’t.” It was quiet; honest. A simple admission of just how small he truly was.

“After all you’ve done for the universe,” Peter started, struggling to string together a sentence that wasn’t completely cheesy, “I don’t think it  _ could’ve  _ killed you. It’s, like, fate or something.”

Tony gave Peter a look, but chuckled nonetheless. “That’s not how it works, kid.” He dismissed the holographic screen he had been using to work on a document. “I’m here because the glove directed just enough energy away from my vital organs.”

Peter rolled his eyes, although without genuine annoyance. “I  _ know _ , Tony. I’m just being stupid.”

“No, you’re right.” The man tapped the tabletop with a metal finger. “I deserve this.”

Peter put his finished homework back into its folder before returning it to his bookbag. He stood, bumping Tony on the shoulder with a fist. “You do.”

-

FIN

-

ive been fucking depressed for like 48 consecutive hours so here’s this

**Author's Note:**

> gorgeous art by isakisol on tumblr! check them out: isakisol.tumblr.com  
> request fics: riss-i.tumblr.com  
> boo hoo waah waah i’m a little baby who can’t handle sad things so here xoxo lovya


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